


Fresh Prince of The Underground

by castletongreen



Category: Undertale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfresh, Minor Body Horror, Soulless Undertale Pacifist Route, Time Shenanigans, hints of past sansxalphys if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:42:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7880488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castletongreen/pseuds/castletongreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve been going through the motions for ages. Make friends. Kill. They lose track, sometimes, which path they’re on. They just know they can’t let it end. They can’t let them have their way.</p><p>A pocket dimension trapped within a cycle of repetition, repeating its events over and over, completely isolated from any other timeline...it was only a matter of time before something noticed. </p><p>There had always been things hiding in the void.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Kid on the Block

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know, man, I just couldn't get this idea out of my head. There's too little fresh out there.
> 
> Sanzy Fresh belongs to http://loverofpiggies.tumblr.com/

 

They felt guilty every time Sans mentioned it, but the feeling went away within minutes. Each reset they learned something new about their friends, or about the world they lived in. If they had listened to him, they never would have found the friendly-looking dripping man in behind the grey door, after all. So they kept it up, searching for more secrets. They told themself eventually they would stop, and give their friends their happy ending. When they were done. When they had seen everything.

 

And then they had seen everything, and there was no going back. There was so much dust on their hands. There still is.They fucked up. They completely, irreversably fucked up, and they paid the ultimate price to make everything go back to the way it was.

 

And they did it all again. They did it right this time. And for the second time, they showed all their friends the sun. That was the last time they remember feeling happy.

 

Because after that, _they_ took over. They still feel sick to their stomach every time they think about it. They really only had one choice.

 

And that was timelines ago.

 

They’ve been going through the motions for ages. Make friends. Kill. They lose track, sometimes, which path they’re on. They just know they can’t let it end. They can’t let them have their way.

 

A pocket dimension trapped within a cycle of repetition, repeating its events over and over, completely isolated from any other timeline...it was only a matter of time before something noticed.

 

There had always been things hiding in the void.

 

~~~~~~~

 

They don’t hear anything as they make their way through the long stretch of forest before Papyrus’s puzzles. They don’t hear the branch break in half, or the footsteps approaching behind they when they get to the gate. They turn around, just in case. Nothing.

 

Snowdin’s never felt as cold as this.

 

Sans is spray-painting his sentry station when they arrive. The lamp is already painted a cringingly bright combination of neon green and hot pink. Frisk keeps their expression perfectly stoic as they take in his change of clothes--a bright neon windbreaker and tear-away shorts, and those aren’t light-up sketchers, are they?

 

“WOAH!” He vibrates exitedly as he heelies around they in circles--heelies--somehow grinning wider than usual. “A for-real-life human!! Here I was thinkin’ this was the lamest job in the multiverse, an’ here comes a wicked cool human all-up strollin’ by on my first day! Yo--” he stops in front of Frisk, both hands on their shoulders. The words on his sunglasses say ‘YOLO.’ “My bro is gonna be hella stoked. He’s all about humans and all that. Ya gotta meet him.”

 

A shiver runs down their spine as they tenatively sign, first day?

 

The smile falls from Sans’s face and his grip on their shoulders relaxes. “Yeah, that’s what I said. Why?”

 

Frisk doesn’t answer.

 

Sans tilts his head to the side. “We haven’t...met before, have we?”

 

Frisk shakes their head.

 

“Hah! Didn’t think so. I’d remember a stylin’ kid like you.” he pinches their cheek between his bony fingers, then glances behind him as footsteps approach. “You can call me Sanzy Fresh--well, you probably won’t be callin’ me anything, now I think about it.” he lets out a hearty chuckle that isn’t exactly mean-spirited.

 

Frisk pouts, less hurt by the jibe than by the situation itself. Sanzy Fresh doesn’t seem to notice.

 

“Yo, here comes my bro. Look sharp.” Sans places his propeller cap on their head, facing backwards, and slides an arm around their shoulders as Papyrus walks into view.

 

“Wiggety-what is up, my super-fly guy? Ch-ch-ch-check it out!” It’s hard to determine exactly what he’s gesturing to, he just waves his arm wildly.

 

Papyrus scowls, hands on his hip bones. “Sans! Why are you vandalizing your work station?!”

 

“It’s my station, bro-rangutan, don’t have a cow. I want you to meet my new BFF.”

 

“That station belongs to the Royal Guard! You can’t just paint it! Wash that off immediately! This rediculous phase you’re going through has gone on long enough!”

 

Sansy Fresh clears his throat. “Bro. I want they to meet my new human BFF.”

 

“If this is some joke, it isn’t funny! I’m starting to think it’s actually rather destructive and I--wait, did you say human?”

 

“For real, dawg, an actual in-the-flesh human kid!”

 

“Im not a dog!”

 

Sans snorts and cackles without answering.

 

Papyrus’s eyesockets narrow and he leans down to look they in the face. “Is it true? Are you a human?”

 

Frisk nods.

 

“Wowie! You couldn’t have come at a worse time! Would you like to be captured?”

 

 

They don’t respond.

 

“Nyeheheh! What am I saying? I can’t capture you without trapping you first! I must go and prepare the puzzles!” He shoots a glare at his colorful brother. “This conversation isn’t over, Sans!”

 

When he’s gone, Sans puts a hand behind his head and grins apologetically. “Oh snap, haha, I guess they’re about to get captured, huh? My bad. Yo, you seem like a radical lil’ bro, I’m sure you can handle yourself.”

 

They can’t stop staring at him. At those glasses. “Uh, why you lookin’ at me like that? It’s not cool to stare.”

 

Frisk blinks at him stupidly.

 

“Go ahead bromigo, I’m giving you a head start.” A grin stretches over his face as he snatches back his hat, his laughter echoing through the forest as he walks away in the opposite direction.

 

Well. At least that’s nothing new. Overwhelmed and numb, they hurry to catch up with Papyrus.

 

Sans isn’t there when they finally reach him, and there’s an edge of anxiety in Papyrus’s voice when he greets them. “Ah! Human! Just in time! As expected, my delinquent brother has yet to arrive! But I won’t let that stop me from capturing you! You see, before he became...preoccupied, my brother and I created some puzzles in order to stop they. I think they will find this one...quite shocking!”

 

Fear twists inside the child as Papyrus explains the concept of the Electricity Maze. They know how this part goes. Sans is supposed to be here. He needs to be here.

 

Hesitantly, on Papurus’s cue, they take a timid step forward, flinching as a jolt of electricity runs through the skeleton. He blinks a couple times in surprise. “What...what happened!?”

 

Frisk tries to point to the orb in his hand, but he isn’t paying attention. “This is my brother’s doing! I know it is! He’s sabotauged my puzzle with one of his immature pranks!”

 

They frown and try pointing again, but he keeps staring off into the forest. After a moment he speaks, his voice coming out quiet and wistful. “I’m beginning to think there’s something really wrong with him...” he glances at Frisk thoughtfully, then away again. “He’s not usually like this...I mean, he’s lazy and annoying and immature, but...in a different way? He would never miss such an important day! At least, I don’t think he would...”

 

Frisk frowns, their hands worrying at the edge of their sweater. All they want to do is walk over and comfort their friend, but he still has the orb. They could hurt him if they take a false step, even if they have walked that path a hundred times. This isn’t the way things are supposed to go.

 

“This morning he was up early,” Papyrus continues. “He woke up early and had enough energy to skateboard to work! He usually naps all night and only bothers to wake up minutes before his shift! I should be proud of him but...I’m worried, human.” they stare at each other for a moment. “Those clothes he’s wearing...I’ve never seen they before in my life.”

 

This is wrong. This is all wrong. But at least they aren’t the only one who noticed. If Papyrus is worried, then...maybe this is a problem they can solve. They give him a gentle smile.

 

“Maybe this isn’t the best use of my time...” Papyrus admits. He walks through the maze to them, leaving obvious footprints in his wake. “Human! I have just made a very difficult decision! Although it is my duty as a Royal Guard to capture you, I feel that this brotherly problem is more important. Since this puzzle does not seem to be working to the highest of my standards, I will show they the way through!” Papyrus takes their hand and leads them through the maze. “Follow my every step, Human! Do not go out of line or... one of us will be zapped!”

 

When they reach the end of the maze, Papyus lets go of their hand and shouts officially, with a hand on his chest, “Now, human! I must go and find my brother! You go on ahead and get trapped and otherwise thoroughly japed by my puzzles. Nyeh heh heh! But,” Papyrus lowers his voice, “If you get stuck and need my help, here’s my phone number. Do try to figure them out on their own before you call me.”

 

Frisk grins and nods up at him, heart melting as he grins back at them. What would Sans do without such a cool guy taking care of him? A twinge of guilt tugs at them as they watch their friend walk away, but they shake it off. That was long ago, in another timeline. It doesn’t matter anymore, not with the problem at hand. They press on, stopping only to buy a Nice Cream. They step carefully over the unattended Junior Jumble page, checking to make sure nothing about it has changed (it hasn’t), and let their hands brush by the SAVE point next to Papyrus’s spaghetti.

 

Without the skeleton brothers, Snowdin Forest feels empty and tedious. Still, they keep walking, ready to take on the Royal Guard Dogs.

 

Everything goes black--they let out a hoarse screech as a something is pulled over their face and strong, bony arms wrap around they tightly from behind. Sans’s familiar chuckle echoes their whimpers, way to close to their ear. “Gotcha.”

 

Their breath is hot and wet, and they feel it creating condensation in the interior of the sack that’s been pulled over their head. After a moment, Sans drops his arms and, suddenly in front of them, pushes they hard. They fall back into a chair with a grunt, and he pulls off the bag. His grining face is looming over them, iridescent glasses hiding his intentions. He keeps one hand perched on the back of their chair, and they can’t help but feel trapped and vulnerable under his gaze.

 

“That was way too easy, yo. They can do better than that.”

 

Their lips part slightly, eyes narrowed in confusion. They lift their hands to sign a question, but he beats them to it.

 

“My bro made it sound like capturing a human would at least be a little challenging. What a buzzkill.” He sighs dramatically and leans back against the table, and Frisk realizes they’re just in his kitchen, the sink towering above them. Sans seems to size them up with a playful grin. “So what can they do?”

 

They choose to ignore him, signing, _your brother is worried about you._

 

He raises a browbone, a thick eyebrow so cartoonishly black it looks drawn on peaking out from behind his glasses. “Uh, that ain’t really any o’ yo’ bizniz.”

 

 _He asked me to talk to you about it_ , they lie.

 

Sans waves a hand vaguely. “Man, he’s straight trippin.’ Nothin’ wrong with me. Nothin’ he can’t talk to me about himself anyway.”

 

_He said you don’t normally act like this._

 

“Yo, I think you’re forgetting somethin’ little dude.” He pokes them hard in the chest. “I’m the one who captured you. I’m the one askin’ the questions here, ya dig?”

 

It’s hard to be intimidated by someone in a propeller beanie. Even as Sans’s voice gets very quiet and he leans forward till their faces are almost touching, their heartbeat stays even and they meet his eyes without fear. “What’s so special about humans, huh? What’s the big deal?”

 

They don’t answer. Sans’s grin stretches tighter and he reaches a bony hand to their chin to shut their mouth. They hadn’t realized it was hanging open.

 

“C’mon, what’s the 411? Tell me all about it.”

 

Frisk closes their eyes, and take a breath, then whisper the only thing they can think of that will get his attention.

 

“What was that?” He leans down, turning his head so their mouth is right next to where his ear would be.

 

They repeat the phrase.

 

Sanzy snorts out a laugh that swells into a cackle, doubling over and using the table for support, and it’s his voice, it’s their friend’s laugh, but the rhythm is wrong, it’s all wrong and all they want to do is cry.

 

“Did you--did you just say ‘I am the legendary fartmaster?’ That’s hilarious. What is that? Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

 

It’s gotta be a joke. Classic fake-out, right? That dirty hyper-aware prankster trashbag just doesn’t know when his joke’s gone too far. That’s gotta be it. But the punchline Frisk’s waiting for never comes, and Sans’s confusion seems nothing but genuine.

 

Desperately, they snatch the glasses off his face.

 

Viscerous purple magic oozes from his eye sockets, his grin empty and lifeless. In the center of his left eye socket, a white monster soul glimmers dimly. It looks cracked.

 

“Not cool.” There’s nothing in his voice that suggests anger--or anything else--as he takes his glasses back from their loose grasp. Sanzy Fresh replaces his glasses on his face and stands up, holding a hand out. Numbly, they take it and lets him help they up.

 

“You probs got the wrong impression, my dude. I ain’t here for no war, an’ I sure don’t wanna fight ya! Just wanted to see what humans were all about. The way my bro told it, sounded like this whole human-monster sitch was just a little game, know what I mean? Seems like you take it pretty seriously, though. So. My bad. I apologize. Sincerely. And. I forgive you for that.” He holds up one finger like a schoolteacher chastising a child. “It may not seem cool to apologize, especially if you don’t think you did anything wrong, but if you keep that guilt all pent up inside ya, it’s gonna start tearin’ up your inner-sides, mentally and phisically, yo. An’ that’s no good.”

 

They can feel it in the back of their throat, hot and painful and almost physical, and they’re powerless against it. They start to sniffle, but he takes no notice.

 

“So, we cool? Yeah, we cool. One thing botherin’ me, though. You fell down here this mornin’ right? Or maybe, last night? For sure, you didn’t come to Snowdin till late this morning. So how in the H-E-double-hockey-sticks did you get so tight with my baby bro?”

 

They weren’t really listening, their hitched breaths swelling into manic, ugly sobs that heave their entire body.

 

Sanzy’s jaw tenses. “Dude. Chillax.”

 

But they can’t stop, it’s happening, they’re crying and it’s humiliating the way he keeps staring at them with that confused smile, and oh god, the last time they cried in front of Sans was in that timeline, when he’d begged them to put down their knife, “c’mon, buddy, you remember me?” and they just sort of crumple into themself and hide their face in their arms, rocking back and forth.

 

“Why are you crying?!” Sanzy demands too loudly, making them flinch. “This doesn’t even involve you! I said I didn’t wanna hurt you, didn’t I? Why you trippin’?”

 

A shadow falls over Frisk as he looms above them, the toe of his sneaker nudging them gently. “you do know me, don’t you? Well--know Sans. C’mon, I’m not stupid. There’s only ever one reason people act this pathetic. You arrived this morning but you’ve known him for a lot longer, right?” He grabs a fistful of their hair and pulls their face up to look at him. He isn’t smiling anymore. “We’re not gonna have a problem, are we?”

 

Frisk shakes their trembling head. The face in front of them blurs into an abstract watercolor through the tears filling their eyes, but they don’t miss the grin return worn and comfortable to his face, never gone for long.


	2. Always do your homework

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fresh decides to do some research, but only finds more mysteries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd be lying if i said some parts of this chapter didn't make me feel a bit uncomfortable while writing them.

“Okay.” Sanzy coos gently even as his hand is still clenched into their scalp. “Okay. It’s okay. Stop crying. Stop it.”

 

For a moment Frisk tries to pull themself together, but when they hear the front door opening, they let their cries swell into a wail.

 

“SANS!” Papyrus slams open the dor and rushes in, “I have been loking all over for you! Why is the human here? I told them to go ahead and get bamboozled by my illustious puzzles! Why are they crying, Sans? What did you do to them!?”

 

The skeletal hand drops from Frisk’s hair as Sanzy scrambles to distance himself from them. “Nothin’, I--”

 

“This has to stop, Sans! I knew you were having a strange morning but i would never have thought you could make someone cry! Usually the worst you are capable of is minor pranks and boondoggling at your station! What’s gotten into you today!?”

 

Sanzy opens his mouth to speak but stops when Papyrus holds up a finger to shush him. The tall skeleton crouches down to Frisks level, placing a hand on their shoulder gently. “Human! I am very sorry for whatever my brother has done to upset you. Could I make it up to you perhaps? I can get you a warm bed and some warm spaghetti?”

 

“Wasn’t my fault, bro, this human’s straight-up cray-cray, they--”

 

“I don’t want to hear your excuses! Aren’t you expected at Grillby’s, or one of your other slimy delinquent hang-outs?”

 

Sanzy raises an eyebrow, a curious smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t think so....?”

 

“Get out of here, Sans!”

 

The colorful skeleton puts up his hands in a placating gesture and backs out of the room, still smiling.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

His own room is empty and gross and depressing. Sanzy can’t help but let out a low wistle as he surveys the area. “Man, what is your damage?” he breathes, his voice seeped in disgust and awe.

 

He takes a step forward and quickly withdraws his foot when the sock he steps on makes a squishing sound. “Aw, nasty, dude! Gotta renovate the heck outta this crib. Think I’ll keep the treadmill,” he adds as an afterthought.

 

He turns his attention to the trash vortex swirling in the corner, gingerly picking out the book as it flies by. “Joke book? Lame.” He tosses it to the side and takes a shortcut to his brother’s room.

 

“Aw, Nice! This is what I’m talking about!” He’s not sure what his brother is going to do with the crying human, but he doesn’t want to risk him finding him here. Not a conversation he’s ready to have, not with how confusing everyone’s been acting already.

 

No time to admire the way-cool race car bed or the wicked-awesome pirate flag; Sanzy turns his attention to the bookshelf. Puzzle books. Kid’s books. Nothing useful. He’s about to step away when something catches his eye. He grunts dismissively and decides to take it with him. Not what he’s looking for, but it could come in handy later.

 

He steps outside into the snow to explore the town. Pretty sure he passed by a library on the way to work this morning--ah, there it is. Spelled wrong. Cute.

 

If anyone were to ask him how he feels about libraries, he’d say they were awesome and fun-ducational. He’s gotta keep up a good, wholesome reputation for the kids in town who would soon be looking up to him--kids he would have introduced himself to by now if it weren’t for the weird morning he’d had.

 

The first few days are always a little weird. He’d learned to take it in stride.

 

In truth, Libraries had always kinda bummed him out. He likes to make a bold entrance when he enters a room, make sure he’s always the life of the party, but he’d learned--after getting kicked out of more than a few--that this is considered disrespectful in a library. He resigns himself to a double finger-gun in the Librarian’s direction.

 

“Oh--hi, Sans. Trying out a new look?”

 

He spins around on his heelies. “Whatta ya think?”

 

She giggles shyly into her hand. “You look adorable.”

 

“Hey, right back ‘atcha.” He leans on the desk and rests his chin in his hand, giving her his most disarming smile. “So, uh, you got any books on humans in this joint?”

 

“Well, nothing too thorough. I think we have one on basic anatomy, probably a few history books about the war, but if you want anything more substantial, Dr. Alphys is the expert.”

 

“Dr. Alphys?”

 

“Yeah, the royal scientist?” She laughs a little at his blank expression. “Really, Sans? She’s been Royal Scientist for almost three years. Get with the times.”

 

“A scientist, huh? O-okay. Where’s her...uh, science house located?” Cripes, if there’s anything that bums him out more than a library...

 

That prompts another giggle. “Hotland, of course, right at the entrance from waterfall. Have you really never been to Hotland?”

 

“First time for everything,” he shrugs, the enthusiasm gone from his voice as he turns away from her and walks out once more into the snow.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“DR. ALPHYS IN DA HOUSE!!!!!!”

 

Alphys flinches as she steps out of the elevator into a shower of confetti, then backs against the wall when she registers who it is yelling at her, and what he’s wearing.

 

“Sans? what is this about...?”

 

“Just thought I’d pop in to see the Underground’s most totally bodaceous scientist!”

 

“W-what? What are you wearing?”

 

“I took some advice from one of my bro’s books!” He holds up the book, open to the correct page. “People may say reading’s for squares, but if you take the time to open a book, you may be surprised at just how much you can learn, or what magical adventures may await you~”

 

“I know how books work, Sans. ‘Wear special clothing to show you care?’ This is dating advice. Are you trying to ask me on a date?”

 

“YES!”

 

“W-what? Y-y-you? Th-this isn’t some sick j-joke, is it? Because it’s not--”

 

“Alph!” He takes both her hands in his, and blood rushes to her face. She wishes it wasn’t so obvious when she blushed. “I would never play games with someone’s heart. Love is a delicate flower that must be nurtured carefully--Break someone’s heart, and they seriously may never trust again. Why don’t you trust me, Alph? Who hurt you? Gimme a name, I’ll scramble their eggs.”

 

She snorts. “Wow, that was corny. This is more trouble than you usually go to for a prank.”

 

“It’s not a prank!”

 

Gently, she pulls her hands out of his grasp and pushes him away. “It-it’s okay, I know I deserve it. J-just, do me a favor and skip to the punchline already, okay?”

 

“Aw...” His voice takes on a sympathetic tone. He steps away from her, over to the desk, and taps the ‘on’ button on the boombox beside her computor. A fast-paced 80’s track begins to play. How long had that been there? He must have brought it with him.

 

“Dance with me, Alphy.”

 

“T-to this song?” she starts to giggle. “Seriously?”

 

But his smile looks nothing but sincere as he takes her hand and pulls her into the rhythm, and she can almost get passed the absurdity of dancing to Rick Astley’s _Never Gonna Give you Up._ Sans is as sure-footed as she is clumsy, but he doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that she struggles to follow the steps, swinging her in another direction every time she begins to stumble. As the music starts to crescendo for the bridge, he pulls her close and dips her low. His teeth press against her snout, sending a shiver down her spine in spite of herself.

 

“Was...w-was that a k-kiss?”

 

“Only if you want it to be.”

 

“No...nonononononono...” Alphys giggles nervously and stumbles out of Sans’s grasp, nearly falling to the floor in the process. “This is...um, really flattering, Sans, but, well... It’s _you_ , and it’s _me,_ and I j-just don’t think that we should--t-that is, um...it’s...it’s not that I don’t _like_  you, but--”

 

“What are those?”

 

He’s looking at her DVD shelf. God, was Sans always this easily distracted? It’s been so long since they’d spoken. She should have spent more time getting to know him back then.

 

“Um, th-those are just some human DVD’s I f-found in the trash. Y-you probably wouldn’t be interested.”

 

“As if! Doc, I am hella into human stuff. For real.”

 

He’s calling her ‘doc,’ now? Talk about taking rejection well. Alphys can’t help but feel a little put out. A minute ago he was ‘hella into’ _her._

 

“It’s just anime, Sans. Cartoons,” she snaps, unable hide the annoyance in her voice. “They’re not exactly scientifically accurate.”

 

“Can we watch some?”

 

“W-what? I--”

 

“Please?” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “I mean, if you’re not busy.”

 

“Oh...” Another blush creeps to her face as she begins to understand. “W-well, I don’t see why not? It-it does get kinda lonely having no one to talk to about them...the ones that Undyne doesn’t like, I mean...” She emphasizes Undyne’s name, trying to get him to catch on, but his grin is rigid and unreadable. “W-we can watch a few episodes, I guess...platonically.” Alphys gives him a significant look.

 

“Yeah, okay, whatever you want.” His voice comes out a little curt. He hesitates when she automatically frowns. “I mean...” His hand hovers loosely in a gesture of indescision, as though he’s looking for the right words. “I just want you to be happy?” he finally says, his tone unsure.

 

“Wow, uh, that’s real sweet...” she tries to smile at him, still unsure if he’s making fun of her. “You, uh, gonna wear those glasses while you watch?”

 

“Yeah, they make me look cool.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The cartoon is colorful and the costumes look pretty cool, but that’s about the only thing Fresh could say for it. There aren’t enough action scenes, the science doesn’t check out, and the characters are constantly behaving irrationally, risking their lives on a whim, without the promise of reward. It annoys him to no end, and no matter how many times they talk about ‘doing the right thing’ or ‘saving their loved ones,’ he could find no method to the madness that seemed to plague every host or potential host he’d ever come in contact with.

 

The doctor sits well away from him on the couch, body language closed off and turned slightly away from him, like he makes her nervous. He’s not sure yet whether that’s a good thing or not. Sometimes fear makes them more compliant, but they also tend to lash out when they feel threatened (that, at least, he understands), usually causing more problems for him in the long run. And scientists always had a tendency to be unpredictable.

 

“Woah doc,” he says when a particularly androgenous cartoon human suddenly grows wings and shoots lazers out of their scepter, “That’s wicked cool! Do humans really have gnarly superpowers?” .

 

The doctor snorts. “Um, what kind of question is that?”

 

He turns a quizical smile her way, trying to read her face.

 

“I-I mean, I guess? Not like this, though,” she giggles nervously, eyes searching his face as carefully as he’s searching hers. “It’s more like...their SOULs are just really powerful...”

 

“Right on! How much power we talkin?”

 

“Um, is this--are you setting up for a joke or something? I don’t, um...”

 

“What? Nah, brah, it’s just hella interesting.”

 

“Didn’t you used to study humans or-or something?” Her smile falls, she looks concerned.

 

That throws him. He’d known Sans had some sort of history with Science With A Big ‘S’--one doesn’t learn those so-called ‘shortcuts’ on one’s own, after all--but what did that have to do with humans? The doctor stares at him, eyes trailing down, fixating on his jacket, his gloves, his sneakers, and for a moment, he thinks he’s caught.

 

Then, “Sans, you...haven’t been having memory problems, have you?”

 

Maybe he’d overestimated this scientist. He lets his smile fall, drawing his eybrows together in concern. “Well, actually, doc...”

 

“You should have led with that!” She snaps, face flushed. She stands and starts looking through the trash on her desk. “I-I don’t know how much I can do, I-I mean n-no promises, but I m-might be able to help! I’ll need to do some tests--”

 

He stands and stretches, letting out a yawn. “Sounds like a total buzzkill, man.”

 

She looks at him quizically, concern etched into her face. “Do you...do you not want to remember?”

 

“Dude.” He can’t help but laugh. What a depressing thing to assume. “Didn’t say that, doc, I just ain’t about to kill this sweet vibe with some heinous tests, yo!” Sanzy heelies over to her and leans against the desk. “Can’t you just all-up tell me what I forgot?”

 

“I don’t know what you forgot, Sans!” She turns on him. “I don’t know a thing about you except what you let slip in some drunken stupor! I know this isn’t the first time you’ve had memory lapses, but _this_ ,” she gestures at him wildly, face flushed. “I don’t know what this is! What am I supposed to do with this?”

 

“Yikes.” Sanzy grins. “Take a chill pill, doc, it’s all cool.”

 

Alphys’s face scrunches up. “It’s not cool! You’re supposed to be the one who...who remembers...” She sighs, long-suffering, and leans against the desk, mirroring his stance but for her crossed arms.

 

“Remembers what?”

 

She opens her mouth like she’s got an answer prepared, but no sound comes out. This happens three more times. Sanzy blinks away the magic building up around his eyes, adjusting his glasses self-conciously.

 

“I don’t remember,” Alphys finally says.

 

Sanzy laughs.

 

The doctor keeps her eyes on the ground. “I’m sorry...I-I probably wouldn’t be any help to you, anyway...”

 

Talk about a buzzkill. “Aw, it’s okay, doc, I didn’t ask for your help.” He wraps his arms around her. She’s stiff and unmoving in his grasp. “But thank you, I mean it. You’ve already helped me more than I could have bargained for.” He pulls away, riding his heelies backwards into a shortcut. “Any-yo-yo, I gotta go all-up process all this bagage or something, I’m outtie 9000.”

 

Back in his cold and filthy room, Sanzy blinks away the magic build-up around his eyes, surveying the garbage around him. “Gotta hand it to ya, bromigo,” he murmurs sweetly, “it’s a little too soon to make any official calls, so don’t tell the others, haha, but you might just be my favorite host! Radical bro, suspicious past, teleportation...and so well-behaved, I really thought you’d start freakin’ out back there...” He’d gotten _so close_ to learning something important, he knows. Maybe even something intensely personal to his host. He wonders, idly, how far his host could be pushed before it would start fighting back, and what it would look like when it did. “I should reward ya,” he decides. “We’ll both feel way more tubular with a clean room!”

 

It would be a long, arduous process, but if his host is hiding something here, this would be the best way to find it. He starts by throwing out everything in the trash tornado, checking carefully to make sure everything is empty downstairs before he proceeds, hoping to avoid another awkward confrontation with the mysterious human. When he retulrns, he does his best to separate the clean socks on the floor from the myriad of crusty ones. He carries an armful of clean socks to the dresser--which is made of cardboard, he notes with a vague unease. When he opens the sock drawer, he finds more than half of its contents stiff with that same crusty material. He lets out a sigh and starts rifling through the drawer, separating those as well. He jerks back his hand in surprise when his phalanges connect with something cold and metalic. Smiling, he reaches back in and pulls out a key.

 

“C’mon, buddy, why didn’t you tell me this was here?” He holds it up and lets it gleam in the dingy light, his grin twisting into a triumphant smirk. “What does this go to, dawg?”


	3. Taking Care of Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little intense

“And Fluffy Bunny knew he didn’t have to be scared of the dark anymore.” Papyrus concludes with a sigh, closing the book with a soft thud. “Are you feeling better, human?”

 

Frisk smiles and nods, pulling the blankets closer around their shoulders, fully aware of how adorable they look. The plate of spaghetti sits, mostly untouched, at the foot of the bed, giving the room an indescribable smell.

 

“I love that book.What did you think? Did you like the spaghetti??” Frisk nods automatically. They’d never heard that book before, and they can’t help but bask in the novelty of the situation, even as a tendril of guilt crawls up their spine. A fresh new problem to solve (heh), a new game to play, is more than they bargained for with this run, and it’s as thrilling as it is scary. They hope Sans isn’t in too much danger. They hope it’s not their fault this happened, and that he won’t be too angry with them when they finally rescue him.

 

Frisk takes a deep breath and pokes their hands out of the blanket to sign, _can we talk?_

 

“Wowie, what an honor!” Papyrus exclaims, “I’ll be able to get valuble information about your plans and King Asgore will see my contribution to your capture and I will be rewared for all my hard work! I might even become a member of the Royal Guard!” He clears his throat and straightens up. “Human! I have accepted your offer to talk!

 

_It’s about your brother._

 

“Ah...you know, he usually isn’t like this. He’s usually a pretty nice guy, even though he’s a lazybones. I don’t know what’s going on with him today. Could he be sick? Did he have a nightmare? I’m worried about him, human. More so than usual. If...you don’t mind me asking, what did he do to you? Why were you crying?”

 

‘That’s not sans,’ they want to say, but when they look at that child-like, expectant face they can’t bring themselves to rope him into this. Sans wouldn’t want to get him involved. _He was being mean,_ they tell him.

 

Papyrus’s face darkens, eyesockets trailing to the floor. “I’m sorry, human...I really don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s not usually so...” he trails off.

 

How long has he been acting strange?

 

“Last night, he took a shortcut home because he was too lazy to navigate the puzzles,” Papyrus offers without hesitating, and it’s not the first time Frisk has been taken aback by how trusting their friend is. “He wasn’t there when I got home, I thought he was just staying late at grillby’s, but this morning I found him lying on the floor with new clothes, but they were...they were disheveled and wrinkled, like he’d been in a fight, but he said he was fine. Well, he said a lot more than that...”

 

This morning? Then he was gone the whole time they were staying at Toriel’s, and he came back just in time to meet them. Frisk pulls their knees to their chest. That’s one hell of a coincidence. This might be their fault, after all.

 

“I’m very sorry you got wrapped up in all of this, human, but you just leave it to me! I’ll set my brother back on the straight and narrow! I will just have to capture you later. You are welcome to stay here as long as you need!”

 

Frisk is torn for a moment. They’re not sure how dangerous this thing unskillfully masquerading as Sans really is--though it had gone out of its way to seem intimidating, it hadn’t actually hurt them--and letting Papyrus try to handle this himself seems like the Wrong Decision. Still, if Sans is still in there, his brother may be the only one who can reach him.

 

And they’ll be careful about their save points. If anything goes wrong, they’ll just reset.

 

~~~~

 

Sans’s muffled voice leaks from his closed door as Papyrus steps out into the hall, the mostly-untouched plate of spaghetti in his hand. He’d left the human alone to nap in his bed for now, knowing he’d have to move them to the shed eventually.

 

The easy, casual tone of his brother’s voice irritates him--he shouldn’t feel that comfortable after making someone cry. He knocks on the closed door, and Sans’s laid-back voice answers him, “Sup, bro?”

 

Papyrus takes this as an invitation and opens the door, blinking in surprise when he sees what his brother is doing. “Are you...cleaning?”

 

“Heck yeah, my main man, this crib’s hella sicknasty. Thinkin’ it’ll really improve the vibe if I take care o’ the place more. My problemo is this, Papy-bro, once all these socks are in their proper places and this gross trash is outta the way, what’s that leave?” He gestures vehemently around the room. “This crib is a wasteland, bro! I gotta do some furniture shopping, maybe pick up some cool posters--”

 

“What are you talking about!?” Papyrus demands, striding into the room to loom over his brother. “Do you think this is going to make me forget about what happened? Stop acting like you didn’t just make a child cry! What is wrong with you?”

 

Sans cocks his head to the side. “You still hung up on that, broheim?”

 

“Yes, I’d say that I am vey hung up on that, Sans. The human seemed very upset about what you did to them,” Papyrus sits down on the edge of the bed and pats the spot next to him, inviting Sans to sit. Sans hesitates for a moment, but Papyrus gives him his most reasuring smile and he sits down. “I’ve never seen you lash out like this, brother. Can you tell me what’s wrong? You can trust me, Sans. I’m here for you,” he put a hand on his brothers now overly-colorful shoulder.

 

“I know,” Sans says carefully, “’course you’re there for me, you’re the raddest bro in the wiggety-wide world.”

 

“I know! So can you tell me what’s wrong?”

 

“Told ya this morning, bro, this is the new me.”

 

Papyrus frowns, “But what caused this change? Did something happen, Sans? I know that there are things you don’t tell me but--but I’m not a child! You can trust me with this. I’m starting to get concerned.”

 

“You know what this key is for?” Sans holds up a small key, covered in scratches and well-worn.

 

“No I don’t, Sans! Don’t change the subject!”

 

“I found it in that cardboard thing over there. It was all-up covered in socks and junk. I wiggity-wonder what it goes in, brah. Some kinda secret treasure box?”

 

“Oh my God! The key isn’t important! How can you be so distracted? Sans, I’m trying to have a one-on-one with you right now! Brother to brother!”

 

“Pass.”

 

Papyrus’s hand tightens on his brother’s shoulder without him telling it to. “This isn’t a joke, Sans! What am I supposed to think when I find you in our kitchen with a fistful of a child’s hair while they’re _weeping openly?_ ”

 

Sans is quiet for a moment too long, his expression unreadable under those glasses (sunglasses indoors, what a hack). He’s about to ask him to take them off, when his brother speaks up. “Hold up, bro, what kinda kid was that?”

 

“A human one?” Papyrus offers, unsure where Sans is going with this but glad his brother isn’t avoiding the subject.

 

“Abso-rad-ly! And what do we do with humans?”

 

A shiver of guilt runs down his spine, but he ignores it. He knows he’s in the right, here--he never wanted to hurt anybody. “We capture them, but--”

 

“Why?”

 

“Well, because...they’re dangerous?” he ventures thoughtfully. “They were the ones who trapped us under this mountain, and they’re supposed to be very powerful. The king needs them to break the barrier, I think, but--”

 

“So why are you so straight-up pissed that I tried to capture one?”

 

Papyrus doesn’t know how to answer for a moment, and now Sans’s hand lands gently on his shoulder. “Sounds like these guys mean business, know what I mean? Trappin’ a whole civilization underground? That’s messed up, man.”

 

“That doesn’t mean--”

 

“And this king guy’s probs got a hella important reason he wants ‘em captured, ya feel me? My guess is they’re not just dangerous, they’re super mega dangerous.” Sans’s voice is gentle, his hand rubbing small circles on Papyrus’s back, but Papyrus feels a surpising disgust seeping through his bones.

 

“We don’t need these scrubs runnin’ around all-up dustin’ everyone who looks at ‘em sideways. It’s a cruel, cruel world we live in, Papy-bro, sometimes ya gotta make hard choices. It ain’t fun or pretty, but sometimes ya gotta off some creep before they off you, dig it? Or at least rough ‘em up a li’l--”

 

“Enough!” And before he can stop himself he’s grabbed Sans’s humeri almost hard enough to bruise, shaking him firmly to get his attention, just to get his point across that _this isn’t a game_ and he’s appalled at himself even as he does it, “You don’t talk like that! I’m the Royal Guard, not you! It’s my decision to make, do you understand?”

 

Sans’s grin would seem nothing but vaguely amused to anyone else looking, but his brother notes how tightly he clenches his jaw, the way his browbones press together in the middle in something more than irritation.

 

Still, he presses his luck. “That human has been nothing but polite! I find it very hard to believe you were in any danger from them for a second! When did you get so _violent,_ Sans? Why won’t you _ever tell me anything?_ ”

 

“Get offa me.” Sans’s voice is very calm, very low, but in an instant it snaps Papyrus out of whatever madness had posessed him to _lay hands on his brother_ , and he releases him hastily, scrambling to the other side of the room to put as much distance between them as possible.

 

Sans visibly relaxes, and it’s then that Papyrus realizes his brother had actually been afraid--he had been afraid of _him_. “I’m sorry,” he spits out.

 

“Nah, it’s all good, baby bro, I didn’t realize it was such a touchy subject. I’ll leave your li’l pal alone, kay?”

 

“Okay...” Papyrus mutters.

 

“Cool. Good talk.” Sans stands and cracks his neck. “Anyway, it’s time for me to blow this popsickle stand. Peace out, bro.”

 

He disapears.

 

And that’s when Papyrus sees the tiny human face peering at him through the cracked door, their eyes wide and glassy, their expression horrified. He doesn’t have to say anything; the human pushes through the door and wraps their hands around his waist in a fleshy hug. He drapes an arm around their shoulders, feeling too weak to reciprocate the hug completely.

 

No, he was right, he thinks, guilty that it makes him feel better. This human isn’t dangerous at all.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Frisk wants to stay with their friend, they really do, but that thing has Sans’s key and they can’t waste any time. They give Papyrus one final squeeze and dash downstairs, through the door and into the cold outside. There’s no footprints leading behind the house, but that doesn’t mean anything when their quarry can teleport. They rush to the door behind the house and turn the handle. Locked.

 

But what does that mean? Had it already gone in and locked the door behind it? Or had it not found it yet? Trembling, Frisk rests their forehead on the door and takes a couple deep breaths--then knocks.

 

No response.

 

There’s nothing they can do. They turn around to go--then stop short. It’s standing in front of them, about five feet away, twirling the key in its stolen fingers with an easy grin on its stolen face.

 

“Wiggety-what’s up, my humando-friendo?” It fingerguns with its free hand.

 

Frisk cringes, and then the thing is right next to them, wrapping an arm around their shoulders, it’s face far too close to theirs. “You wanna see what’s in there as much as I do?”

 

They push the thing away with all the strength they can muster, surprised when it nearly topples over, stumbling to keep upright. But it doesn’t stop smiling.

 

“Rude.”

 

Frisk positions themself in front of the door and pulls out the toy knife they’d found in the ruins, wishing they’d been able to pick up something stronger.

 

They’re filled with determination. They were never quite certain what Sans had been trying to tell them by showing them this place, but they know it was important. He’d only let them see after a series of tests, after they put forth the effort to learn not one but two codewords proving who they really were.

 

This thing didn’t know the codewords. They’re _not_ going to let it see.

 

“Okay listen up broski, cause I’m about to drop some hella sick info on ya.” Its voice is just as casual as always, but it’s crouched in a defensive position, it’s center of gravity low, poised to fight or flee. “I’m not gonna be here forever, ya dig? You can have your little skele-pal back when I’m done with him...unharmed. But you use that weapon, and you won’t be hurtin’ me at all, you’ll be hurtin’ him.”

 

Then why does it bother, Frisk wonders. Why is it so ready to flee? Why would it be so eager to avoid a fight if it has nothing to lose?

 

Frisk doesn’t move.

 

“You pickin’ up what I’m putin’ down, friendo? Drop that knife--or drop me a sick beat an’ let’s dance!” It hops from foot to foot, throwing punches in the air and making ‘wooshing’ sound effects.

 

A giggle escapes the kid’s mouth before they can help themselves, and Sans’s face ignites in delight, the creature’s fear appearently vanished.

 

“You’re a cute lil’ rugrat, aren’t ya? Look, Imma level with ya, homeskillet, as much as I’d like to see what this baby can do,” Frisk’s face twists in disgust. Is it talking about Sans? “My beautiful angel bro Papyrus made me promise to leave you alone, and it’s about the most uncool thing you can do to break a brother promise. So Imma bounce--uh...”

 

Frisk extends their hand, their expression stern.

 

“...Nah, brah, I’m gonna hold onto the key for now, but hey, I’ll bring you a cut of whatever magical treasure I find!” It starts moonwaking away to its own inner rhythm. “Peace out, bro!”

 

The child launches themself at the skeleton at full force, grasping at his jacket with their free hand before gravity shifts under them, the familiar pull of blue magic sending them tumbling against the wall.

 

“Do not become a problem for me, jabroni,” The creature warns, its tone casual and friendly.

 

They hold out their hand once more.

 

“...You’re gonna become a problem, aren’tcha?” It sighs, and glances forlornly toward the road. It almost seems sad, they think, before they’re thrown against the wall once more. This time, they’re able to push against it and jump at him again, straight into the wall of summoned bones in front of them.

 

They cry out in pain as they’re knocked to the ground and burried under an onslaught of bones. Their cry dies down to a soft wimper as their health continues to drain even after the storm has ended. “Promises are hella overrated anyway,” the creature says. Frisk starts to stand again and reach for the food in their inventory when Sans’s phalanges close around their wrist painfully and pins it against the side of the house. His other hand digs into their other forearm, his knee planted sternly on their solar plexes.

 

“It’s gonna be okay little dude, you just need a change of attitude,” it rasps, almost sweetly, and it makes this horrible hacking noise, powerful enough to rattle his bones, and a writhing, glistening, lime-green _thing_ worms its way between his teeth, the size of a baseball, and someone far away is shreiking and they’re sure it’s them. They’re able to close their mouth and turn their face away and the thing falls from his mouth onto their chest with a repulsive squeltching sound and writhes toward their face, leaving a trail of slime on their shirt. It smells like gatorade and bones. The same slimy substance drips from his mouth in thick dangling droplets. And Sanzy Fresh’s smile hovers over them excitedly and his hands keep them in place and the maggot-like creature worms its way up their neck, cold and wet-- and something in the darkness inside them, the thing with the iron grip on their SOUL, whispers gently to them, and in a desperate panic, they obey.

 

RESET.

 

The rancid smell of Papyrus’s spaghetti fills their nostrils. It’s frozen to the plate. The note he left them flaps noisily in the frozen wind. Frisk wraps their arms around themself and sobs.

**Author's Note:**

> S/O to infinitepenguin for writing the hella intense fic that got me thinking about this.


End file.
